Headache
by Tsukiko Lily
Summary: A Compulsive Love Story. Oneshot, Max/Ray, a dark take on things...


**Author's Note:** So I'm finally back in the game! XD I really, really wanted to write something about Max and Ray, specifically this, for a long time now. And it's… Dark. ^^; Basically, I just wanted to do a sort of dark character exploration/interpretation thing. Is it good? No idea. Is it roughly what I wanted to do? Sure. ^_^ As if you couldn't tell, I _love_ dark interpretations of Max, and of Rune Factory characters in general, so if you can do better (as you likely can!), please share and share alike! ^^

**Warnings:** Depressing. Mild bloody bits. Male/male pairing, though non-explicit. Possibly irritatingly, cheesily melodramatic, but if you're like me and go in for things like that, it's all good. 3

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** Rune Factory does not belong to me. If it did, it would probably be a messed-up depressing game. O_o And it isn't!

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**Headache**

A harsh clattering sound, shrill and cutting. Porcelain on marble. Little multicolored shards dig in to soft carpet in a dangerous array, sharp and broken. Panicky, dissonant breathing.

"…Max, is there really any need to get hysterical? I mean, I'd hate to interrupt your little crisis here, but how did this even _start_?"

Ray was reclining on the bed, his back against the cold marble wall. One half of his hair was tied up in its usual, admittedly girlish fashion. The other half was loose, with his fingers twined through it, absent-mindedly correcting any imperfections. The string that usually held it in place was between his teeth, his words slurring slightly. He had been quite absorbed in the rather boring task of fixing his hair when the sound of a vase colliding with the wall startled him, making him turn his attention to the other side of the room, where Max now stood silent, tense to the point of slight trembling. Clutching his head, blonde hair falling to hide his face.

"I just thought I'd clean up a little…"

"Your room was clean to begin with. And now you've gotten glass everywhere, so…"

"…I got a bit frustrated, nothing more!"

"Everyone gets frustrated, Max, but they don't typically start breaking things. You do."

"Well, I got _very_ frustrated, if that's ok with you."

"Max… If you're getting 'very frustrated' over a few specks of dust on your shelves, then no. That isn't ok with me. This thing you have about cleanliness is getting out of hand. Why don't you just sit down and relax for a while, and if you still feel like cleaning then, you can, ok?"

Max was now crouching to lean over the scattering of shards on the floor.

"I've just got to get these first…"

Ray finished tying up his hair, still keeping one eye on the other side of the room, watching over his friend, who seemed to be working frantically and certainly _wasn't_ calming down. _Just be patient, _he told himself in his head, _you know he's not quite right. And don't argue with him, you've seen how he gets when he's angry and it won't do either of you any good if this escalates, besides, what kind of doctor would you be if you… Then again, what would it say if you let him…?_

"…Ffft!"

Ray leapt up from the bed, his train of thought snapped clean through by the sound.

"Max, what did you…?"

"It's really nothing."

But by then, Ray had seen the spattering of shiny red on the floor, and quickly grabbed Max's injured hand by the wrist, almost smirking at how easy it was to wrench it towards him. _For someone who claims to be such a warrior,_ he thought, Max_ really isn't very strong._ And sure enough, a gash had opened up on his palm, leaking red lines down his white forearm. _I'll need to patch him up a little, but I don't think its bad enough to drag him to the clinic. I'll just have to go to the washroom for some bandages…_ Ray helped Max up from the floor and walked him to his bed, where he fell with no resistance. Ray smiled slightly.

"I guess you're all burned out on cleaning, hmm?"

Max didn't respond, aside from briefly making eye contact.

"Alright then. I'll be right back."

Ray turned to leave the room. Max lay still on top of the covers, his hand spreading dark, wet red onto his pale blue shirt. The door closed.

_Click._

After a few minutes, Ray returned, carrying bandages and a few damp cloths. Max was laying completely still, every fiber of his being wrapped up in the battle not to bleed on his sheets, thus stain them, thus need to wash them and then wash them again, just to be sure, or maybe get new ones entirely, or…

"…You been ok here?"

"Honestly, I've been better, but thank you."

One of the things that would never surprise Ray again: Max's utter lack of tact.

"Ok… Well, alright… Let's just deal with your hand, then."

As soon as the blood had been wiped away, Ray could tell the cut wasn't as bad as it had initially looked. A clean slice that would seal up easily, and not as deep as the (already slowing) bleeding had first suggested. He then set to wrapping the wound, which he did quickly and delicately. It was, after all, one of the first procedures he had learned. The white gauze looked crisp and pristine, the kind of thing that made him swell with self-satisfaction.

"How's it feeling?"

Max opened and closed his hand a few times.

"Lovely. You'll make a superlative doctor!"

Ray nearly groaned. The old Max seemed to be back in full force. But it felt premature, like there was unfinished business. He almost longed to see his friend candid and wounded again, though he logically knew that wouldn't really be a good thing.

"Max, could you drop the whole enthusiastically proper thing for a few minutes?"

"…Whatever do you mean?"

Ray grimaced and rubbed his left temple.

"I mean… _That_. What you just did there."

Max blinked.

"But I'm afraid that's the way I talk. You've known me for a long time, need I remind you?"

"Max, you don't… Well, you don't _really_ talk. You hide behind that Mr. Perfect act of yours and never let on that anything's wrong when there obviously is."

"I'm afraid it's not an act. Why wouldn't you believe that I truly strive for perfection in everything I do?"

Ray exhaled sharply.

"The thing is, I _do_, Max. I've seen it. And I think it means there's something _wrong_ with you."

Max shot upright and crossed his arms in front of his chest, ready to defend himself against any perceived attack.

"I'm sorry; I just believe there's a proper way of doing things, that is all! I can't imagine that _you_ wouldn't agree with me. If not, then I can't imagine how you'll fare as a doctor"

His blue eyes were narrowed, sharp and wild. Ray recognized that look, and almost wanted to brace himself for a walloping, but that suddenly seemed like a foolish, even callous thing to do. Sure, Max could be terrifying when he was angry, but in these moments, it always seemed like there was something breakable behind his eyes, something that Ray wanted to repair with clean white bandages, just like he had with his hand, if only Max would just let him come a little closer…

"Max…"

"…What!?"

Ray started slightly, being snapped at always blindsided him, even when the person doing it didn't mean any real harm. Recollecting his thoughts, he began again.

"Max… You had a fit because your shelves were slightly dusty and your perception of "clean" is so outright sterile that even _you_ can't match it. And what about all those times when you went without sleep for days on end because your room was never neat enough for you? And even aside from all that, don't think I've never seen how angry at yourself you can get. Max, you… You're _way_ past just 'doing things properly' or 'perfectionism.' You're… You're _nuts_, ok?"

Max leaned forward to hug his knees to his chest. Ray reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright. I wasn't trying to insult you or anything; it's just that you sometimes seem really… Unhappy… And I…"

Max jerked away.

"…Don't touch me!"

"Max, it's ok. Really. You don't have to put on this whole…"

"…It's not that!"

"What is it? Do you hurt somewhere, or…?"

Max looked a bit distracted.

"Well, I suppose I _do_ have a bit of a headache, but… That's not really the problem, it's just that… You see, I haven't had my second bath today, and I'm feeling a bit grimy, so…"

The seriousness of the moment almost evaporated right then and there. Ray stifled a laugh.

"Max, you're perfectly clean! I mean, you're a little bloody right now, but I'd make a pretty horrible doctor if that got to me. Besides, taking so many baths is pretty hard on the skin…"

Max fell back on the bed again.

"But I really can't take feeling dirty or sticky. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it can make me feel rather like I could just shred my skin off."

Ray had never heard someone put something so weird in such proper terms before.

"Max, I'm going to be honest with you. Not only are you crazy, but you're also completely ridiculous sometimes. And besides, if you're ever feeling like that, you _could_ just come to me… I'd help talk you through it, you know."

"You would… I mean you're alright with me letting go of being perfect with you now and then."

Ray lied down on the bed to face Max, and after a few moments, drew his head close to his chest, sort of gently curling around him. Max didn't seem to object.

"First of all, Max, you're the most perfect guy I know anyway. Second, I just want to help you. Really, I do."

Ray pulled him in closer, gently stroking his silky blonde hair, which was, indeed, impeccably clean. He felt his breath and body heat, his frame nearly limp in his arms. Ray felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. _This is the most unguarded Max has ever been. Around me or anyone._ And then, silently at first but slowly becoming noticeable, he began to cry. Max chuckled.

"Typical… I have a breakdown and you're the one crying."

Something about that triggered full-blown and rather embarrassing sobbing.

"Max… I just… I worry about you! I always do! I know it's not your fault, but it seems like you put yourself through so much, and you… Then you also make it so you have to face it all alone! You… You're not fair to you, Max!"

Max cracked up laughing. Ray just looked stunned.

"I'm sorry Ray, I really am, and you're a dear friend of mine, but your sentences have stopped making any sense at this point. For goodness sake, take a breath!"

Unintentionally, Ray inhaled as instructed. The young men found themselves eye-to-eye, with bare inches separating them. So close that they brushed noses.

…And then lips.

Max seemed to take to this especially well. He grabbed Ray by the collar, pulling him even closer, the proximity allowing his tongue better access to his lips, so that it could gently part them. Ray offered no protest, and then, in kind, reciprocated. After what seemed like an eternity, they parted, and for several seconds could only stare at each other, first in terror at what they had done and then with utter satisfaction. In one synchronous motion, the young men, still panting, turned their surprised eyes towards the ceiling. Max smiled mischievously.

"…Well, are you feeling better?"

Ray was still red-faced and flustered.

"Oh… Um… Yes… A lot… Uh… You?"

"Of course, my dear, _miles_ better."

Ray couldn't believe he had just kissed someone with such an obnoxious way of talking. Max was examining his bandaged hand thoughtfully.

"You know, you'll make a truly fine doctor. Though, you'll probably have to wash your hands as often as I do…"

"…Max?"

"…Yes?"

"…No one washes their hands as much as you do. _No one_. Not even doctors."

Ray snickered. Max huffed.

"Hmf! Well then, I'd just like to add that you're _terribly_ unprofessional with your patients!"

Max Smirked. Ray faked a wounded look.

"Hey, you were unprofessional with me first!"

The two of them broke out laughing, then sank in to silence, their heads deliciously empty. Ray slid one arm beneath Max, wrapping it around his shoulders. He was just so relieved to see him happy and restful, even though he knew that it would come crashing down eventually, that he'd soon enough find him breaking things or yelling or furiously scrubbing the floor or his skin, racing headlong for perfection and hitting the wall every time, shattering on the cold marble again and again. _It's nothing I can't handle,_ he thought to himself. At least now, he'd have someone who could protect him, or at least mitigate the damages. Maybe, in the end, no one could save Max from Max, but Ray would try. Or at very least, mitigate the suffering along the way. It was the least he could do, he thought, for a friend. For a lover. For someone whose pain he could no longer sit by and ignore. After all, a good doctor, even an aspiring one, can't let someone suffer without at least trying to reduce it. Wrap it up tightly to stop the bleeding. _Failing all else, love is a palliative._ He looked at the blonde drifting off to sleep beside him, felt a pang in his chest, pulled him closer. Held him there, tightly, like a tourniquet.

_I'll always be there to bandage you up._


End file.
